


Sounds Like Home

by princey_pie



Series: Sanders Sides Ghost Stories [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Crying, Death, M/M, Violence, implied panic attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 23:57:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18559744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princey_pie/pseuds/princey_pie
Summary: Patton is more amused than scared when he notices some ghost activities around his house but then things take a wrong turn.





	Sounds Like Home

Patton first noticed a few days ago, the sound of little footsteps seemingly following him around the house. It was an old house, as far as a house a few decades old could be considered old but this was America so the description still fit. The walls, floor, and furniture were always creaking and settling. So at first, he wasn't sure when he heard the strange pattern follow his path until the one night he saw it. Or rather him. A pale young boy, face hidden in a giant hood of a purple patched hoodie.

The only place he could go alone was his bedroom, the one time the little kiddo had tried to follow him ended up in him sobbing on the floor and crying out words Patton couldn't quite make out. And when he tried to follow the urge to comfort his little roommate his hands passed right through him, leaving only a warm prickling sensation on his arms.

So he went about his cleaning routine, watching TV late at night, all his time spent with the little ghost in his peripheral vision. All attempts to talk to him went either unnoticed or seemed to scare him away. So Patton settled for silent company. It wasn't like the little guy bothered him, it was his house and if he wanted to give a ghost a home he would damn well do as he pleased.

The only thing that disturbed Patton was the wailing. It always occurred in the evening and sometimes lasted well after midnight into the morning hours. It seemed to come out of the bathroom, painfilled cries of- sadness? Loneliness? Patton couldn't make out words if there were any, the sounds muffled by his bedroom wall. He only hoped it wasn't his little ghost friend. He'd hate the thought of this little kid in so much pain. 

After a week with non-stop noise Patton got up to investigate since it seriously began to keep him from sleeping. 

For once he was surprised to hear the little telltale footsteps behind him. Usually, the kid wasn't presented after midnight until early morning. Maybe ghost kids slept too?

Patton reached the bathroom door, still hearing the sobs from inside, louder now that only a thin piece of wood stood between them. He reached for the handle of the door and pulled. 

The door didn't budge. 

Patton's brows furrowed. If this was another ghost it was a rather rude one, locking him out of his own bathroom and all. But the key still stuck in the lock from the outside, Patton noticed.

He was still trying to solve that riddle with a puzzled expression when the little ghost came up behind him and opened the door without a problem.

On the white tiled floor inside the bathroom kneeled a man. Confused Patton noticed the familiar sensation in his chest as he watched the man lift his head, the same glasses as Patton perched on his nose.

"Virgil?" the man spoke and Patton felt as if the air was pressed out of his lungs by a feeling he couldn't identify. Because he knew that voice. "What are you doing up?"

Then the little guy spoke, voice heavy from exhaustion: "I heard Dad again. So I got up and followed him here."

The man's expression softened: "Vee, dear, I miss him too but Dad's not here." 

He choked back another sob and Patton felt the unexplainable urge to leap forward and hug them both. But he couldn't, humans can't touch ghosts. 

Patton. His name from that man's - no Logan's mouth, his husband of fourteen years. But Patton was right here, what was Logan talking about? The thought from earlier, innocent then now hit him like a train wreck: Humans can't touch ghosts. And there he was, Virgil his son, their wonderful beautiful son, who was very much alive. His son who Patton couldn't touch.

With gaining speed the memories came rushing back, the burglar who broke down the cheap lock of their apartment door. The one they had meant to replace weeks ago but always forgot about. How he had run into Virgil in the hallway and who Patton had jumped and pushed into the bathroom without a second thought because he needed him away from his son, from his family. He remembered how he screamed at Virgil to run and hide. 

How 13 minutes later Logan came home to find his husband bleeding out on the bathroom floor from the knife wounds, the attacker long gone. And more distant he remembered how he somehow saw the ambulance arrive far too late and Logan trying to coax his son from under the bed through his own tears. How Virgil refused to go back into that room after the funeral.

And once again he felt the strong urge to stay. He couldn't leave them behind, not then and definitely not now. 

A cry tore from his throat and echoed from the walls, making the lights flicker. It was as something inside him stretched and stretched impossibly long and then with a rip reality around him seemed to snap. 

That was when Logan locked up and met his eyes, actually meeting his gaze not just looking through him. Patton was sure of that since he let out a gasp filled with grief and disbelief, breaking his heart all over again: "Patton?"


End file.
